נֻתָהֵ  ( Nun Tet Hey ) NuTaHe

אוֹדֶה יְהוָה, בְּכָל-לִבִּי; אֲסַפְּרָה, כָּל-נִפְלְאוֹתֶיךָ. תהילים פרק ט, פסוק ב

Psalms 9:2

Latin Vulgate 9:2 confitebor Domino in toto corde meo narrabo omnia mirabilia tua

King James Version 9:2 I will praise thee, O LORD, with my whole heart; I will shew forth all thy marvellous works. (Ambelain: …; I will relate all thy wonders).

 נֻתָהֵיָה  NuTaHeYA Nith-Haiah – For the acquisition of wisdom and the discovery of the truth of hidden mysteries. Governs occult sciences. Gives revelations in dreams, particularly to those born on the day over which he presides. Influences those who practice the magic of the sages.

Influence time and dates  08:01 – 08:20 21th July until the 25th July inclusively

NITH HAIAH.  His attribute is  God who gives wisdom .  He corresponds to the holy names of God  Orsy  in the language of the Magi.  His ray commences at the 121 stdegree of the circle up to the 125th inclusive, corresponding to the thirteenth decade and to the angel called Charcumis, under the influence of Saturn.  This angel and those, which follow up to the 32nd, belong to the fourth Order of Angels, which the Orthodox calls the Choir of Dominations.  He rules over the following days:  13th April, 24th June, 4thSeptember, 15th November, 26th January.  The invocation is done from 8:00am till 8:20am.

He serves to gain wisdom and to discover the truth of hidden secrets.  This angel rules over all the occult sciences; he gives revelations in dreams and particularly to those born on the day over which he rules; he influences wise men who love peace and solitude, and upon those who seek truth and practice the magic of the sages, which is that of God.

The negative side of this angel rules over black magic, which is that of the evil principal, the demon; this consists of making a pact with him through which he renounces God, he brings evil to mankind, animals and to products of the earth.

A hall like a cathedral, but made of mountains and trees: vast, wild, yet full of complex order.

“Angel, show thyself that I may know thee.” A book that is also a being, like a sphere of fire full of burning letters; a hand on a page, a mouth speaking, incense rising, all buring within a single flame of fire over the altar of the hall.

“What is thy office concerning me?” The finger lifts letters from the page and the mouth blows them toward me: my body tingles warmly like one in passion. A burning in my heart: sanctity all around. Silence. I see the walls of the temple as countless beings, each living its own life, yet each an integral part of the whole. I see myself writing, and I am told that this is a great privilege to step beyond my life and view for a moment a wider scope of the grand design.

“Angel, what mysteries may I learn to the profit of my soul and comfort to this earthly life?” The angel’s book splits in two, and each half becomes a wide, grassy field. On one, people celebrate a festival, rich in fruits. In the other, a grey ruin and wailing. The angel holds these two, then turns them together so they superimpose. A flash of solid light, and the image of scribes writing, yogis in meditation, medicine people in ceremony, witches in ecstacy, saints levitating. Not all are human, but all feel very solid and real and yet superimposed in the same space. Finally, I see a pair of lovers embracing, each having many heads and arms and legs and genders: they are not two things, but one thing in the embrace. They devour one another, yin-yang-like, and from them comes the angel I see over the altar, and myself writing, very human.

“Angel, please tell me in words what I have seen, so I may understand.” It is one thing, not two, and many are its forms. All these are kin, as thy two hands share one heart yet may meet as strangers. Thus you may not be separate ever from the life that flows through all things, but in meeting it like a stranger are brought to the knowledge of the god. Power is given through differentiation and return, and is endless when you come into union with that one who though beyond your understanding is not other than your own body and being. Give yourself abundantly to all experience, judging not what is good and evil, for all is holy when met in holiness.

“What message for those who talk to angels?” The stars of the dome of the temple have descended as steps for your advancement. Do not despise anything: you climb to the heights by integration, and it is the true purification to be one with what has been left out in your ignorance. Know yourself as thou art, one is all things, kin to the dust and the stars.

Second invocation, 7/26/23

A thread of light appears in my mind’s eye, extending itself and weaving into and around itself, unfolding a pattern like a three-dimensional mandala of great complexity and delicacy, open so I can see the structure. In the heart of the mandala is a temple or shrine, where a woman sits spinning with a drop spindle. She is peaceful, but her fingers move so quickly it seems she has many arms—and she’s singing, something lilting and light and playful, with grace notes and glissandi showing effortless mastery.

“Angel, what is your message for me at this time?” A sound of laughter. _O child of earth, do you see this thread, and this weaving? It contains the shape of your world, and yet is but a plaything for a child. This is the mystery I would unfold to you: how to be light in your creations. You humans can be so serious in your sorceries, but have you forgotten that all this is a dream and the play of spirit?_

With a quick twist of her hand, the tapestry mandala, whose intricate knots are now all about me, transforms—something like a cat’s cradle—and I suddenly feel very light, like laughing. The physical room around me does not change, but its meaning changes, and I see it as a stage, or like the board on which a game is played: I laugh. My mind feels slippery, and words come pregnant with connotations and conundrums, eluding my ability to pin them down in writing. I try to form questions, but find my ideas shapeshifting before I can speak them, until I am left silent with bemusement.

_This is the mystery of the sages: to be lost in wonder as a child, playing with life, open to wonder and whimsy, unconcerned with the weight of the world, for in the eyes of the gods it is light, and they pray best who find joy in its every transformation. Now you are a bird._ Indeed, I am a bird on a branch, singing in nonsense syllables. A black child dances with delight in a red dirt street; a rainbow drips magic across an industrial district; the physical birds in my garden are singing, with trills too fast for my mind to follow, and my heart is bewildered with happiness.

“Angel, how may I better learn this art of sacred play?” My body begins moving, rocking loosely back in my seat like a child impatient to be outside. _Do it with your hands, with your legs, with your whole body. It’s ok to be silly and let the game take you, let the play shake you—wake yourself up with laughing, your dreams absurd with meaning, the whole cosmic order a tall glass of laughter, your gods more wholly gods for the holes in the story, the gaps where the laughter gets in. Let yourself spin like a top, grin and grimace and gape, leap and hop, fly when you take yourself lightly. This is how the vast and grand can fit like a toy in the palm of a hand._

The angel finishes her spinning and holds it out to show me: Planets and stars are woven into it like glass beads. It is a bauble of great beauty, a whole universe, and also a mess of wonderfully tangled thread, a toy for a kitten—I am suddenly a cat, and she laughs, and begins to spin again. The vision ends.